Chapter 8: Reunited...
###TRIGGER WARNING - TORTURE/SOME VIOLENCE###
It was a mostly quiet day within the confines of the prison, the monotony of their captivity only broken by the occasional footsteps of their captors echoing in the distance. But that semblance of tranquility is violently shattered when the door to Izzy and Kara's prison abruptly swings open, and two masked men stride in with grim purpose.
Their target is clear as they advance towards Izzy, their gloved hands reaching out to snatch her away from her corner. A third man, shorter and bulkier, moves in swiftly, positioning himself between Kara and the assailants, preparing to hold her back should she attempt to intervene. Kara's instincts kick into overdrive as she comprehends the impending danger, and her reaction is nothing short of explosive.
In a sudden, guttural cry, Kara unleashes a piercing scream of incredible force. The short man, positioned closest to her, pays the price. His eardrums rupture under the sheer intensity of Kara's scream, and he lets out a pained yell. Stumbling backward, he releases his hold on Kara, who seizes the opportunity.
Kara pounces upon one of the men who are attempting to manhandle Izzy. She strikes him with a flurry of powerful blows, forcing him to stagger back, clutching his midsection in agony. The room descends into chaos, and Kara herself ends up crashing into a wall in the midst of the scuffle, her determination overriding the pain.
"Izzy, run!" Kara's voice reverberates with urgency, her blue eyes locked onto the younger girl. She sees a slim opportunity for Izzy to escape, but the terror that has engulfed the girl has paralyzed her, rendering her incapable of movement.
Kara attempts to confront the shortest man once more, but he cunningly pins her against the wall, his back pressing hard against hers. Kara, drawing upon every ounce of her human strength, sinks her teeth into his arm. The sudden shock of pain forces him to release her, and she slides down the wall, gasping for breath.
In the midst of the chaotic struggle, Kara makes a desperate dash towards Izzy, who remains frozen in shock. But one of the taller men intervenes, brutally yanking Kara back as the other advances menacingly towards the trembling girl.
"Leave her alone! Take me!" Kara's piercing cry reverberates through the room. Izzy stands frozen, fear paralyzing her, rendering her powerless as one of the men approaches her. Kara pleads desperately, "No! Take me!"
However, before Kara can ascertain Izzy's fate, the shorter man regains his composure. Together with the one restraining Kara, they forcibly escort her out of the cell, casting her desperate cries aside as they propel her into a smaller, windowless chamber. Dim light filters in solely through the door's small, barred window, leaving Kara disoriented and desperate to return to Izzy.
Kara clambers to her feet and sprints toward the door, a frenzied determination to protect Izzy driving her forward. Yet, before she can reach her destination, the heavy door slams shut, the resounding echo reverberating in her ears. Kara's fists pound relentlessly against the unyielding metal, her voice reverberating through the corridor.
"Leave her alone! Don't touch her!" Kara's cries, laden with terror and despair, continue to ring out as she fights against the confines of her imprisonment. But her pleas fall upon deaf ears. One of the men, frustrated by her resistance, steps back into the chamber and administers a sedative, the needle piercing Kara's skin. She valiantly resists, her muscles tensing as she struggles, until her vision blurs, her cries wane, and her world fades into unconsciousness.
After their graduation, Eliza and Joe decide to throw an unforgettable party for Kara, Barry, and their tight-knit group of friends. The atmosphere, vibrant and charged, reverberates with an almost palpable sense of accomplishment, akin to the final triumphant note of a symphony. The room blossoms with vivid decorations, each color and ornament a testament to the bonds that have grown between them. Music, like a living entity, surges through the space, intertwining with the eager hearts of those gathered, creating the perfect overture for the impending celebration.
But the true magic commences as Kara, with a subtle nod, beckons Barry, and Winn skillfully dims the lights, casting a gentle veil of darkness over the gathering. A soft shroud of obscurity descends upon the room, creating a momentary cocoon of anticipation.
All eyes converge upon a "1st" candle, its feeble flame an emblem of resilience. Its flickering light carves a path leading the way towards Mon-El. His face, painted with astonishment and brimming with tears of gratitude. His expression is a mix of surprise and teary gratitude as the candles' quivering flames are extinguished with a single, hopeful breath. The room erupts in a jubilant symphony of voices, harmonizing into a chorus of well-wishes and triumphant shouts: "Congratulations, Mon-El!"
Mon-El, his eyes initially drawn to Kara, generously disperses his radiant smile across the trio of friends, each ray of appreciation casting a warm, golden glow that envelops the room. Words, heavy with emotion and laden with heartfelt gratitude, flow from his lips: "I couldn't have done this without any of you."
Kara's eyes shimmer, tearful and unshed, as she wraps Mon-El in a loving, comforting embrace. The fervor of their connection is infectious, quickly ensnaring Winn and Barry in its emotional embrace. Their group hug, while comically awkward, becomes an embodiment of the heartfelt bond that they share, punctuated by bursts of joyous laughter.
As they reluctantly untangle themselves, the party surges back to life, a dynamic and celebratory spectacle. The music, previously a gentle hum, surges with renewed vigor, now an electric current that courses through every soul. Conversations, infused with enthusiasm and buoyed by shared happiness, dance through the air like fireflies on a warm summer's night. Slices of cake are passed, shared in the collective sweetness of the moment and toasting to their cherished friends' achievements.
Yet, Mon-El is determined not to let the evening pass without offering heartfelt tokens of his gratitude. He hints at surprises, a tantalizing promise of emotions yet to be unveiled, some of which Kara is privy to.
For Winn, he hands over tickets to Comic-Con, a gateway to a world of shared dreams where he can finally meet his beloved Star Wars actors and embark on a cinematic journey with him. An autograph from Harrison Ford adds an extra layer of elation to Winn's already joyous demeanor.
Kara, on the other hand, receives a meticulously wrapped present that initially leaves her baffled, like a puzzle waiting to be solved. Her confusion transforms into pure awe as she unravels the layers, revealing a peculiar gargoyle figurine.
"How?" Kara looks at Mon-El as tears flow like a river down her cheeks.
"What is that?" Winn murmurs under his breath, his curiosity piqued.
Mon-El, with tenderness in his voice, explains its significance to the surrounding curious eyes—a poignant attempt to recreate a clay model she had crafted for her father as a child.
"Mon-El...thank you." Kara's voice, a melody of vulnerability, quivers as she expresses her profound gratitude, her tearful embrace transcending words to convey the depth of her emotions. Mon-El's gaze, tender and filled with affection, remains locked onto her.
With a sly wink and an air of mystery, Mon-El turns his attention to Barry, knowing that this gift holds a profound significance. "Wha—" Barry, momentarily perplexed, finds himself adrift in a sea of anticipation. However, Mon-El's smile, like the sun piercing through a storm, dispels Barry's confusion and replaces it with an intoxicating sense of wonder.
Joe, prompted by Mon-El's silent signal, turns the knob of a bedroom door, revealing none other than Henry Allen—Barry's father.
"Dad!" Barry's eyes widen with disbelief as he takes in the incredible sight before him. Emotion surges like a tidal wave, and he is powerless to stem the tide of tears that cascade down his face. He rushes towards his father, their embrace a testament to a bond unbroken and a love unyielding.
"Dad," he chokes out, his voice filled with gratitude, love, and the overwhelming emotions of a son reunited with his long-lost father. Henry reciprocates the hug with warmth and affection, savoring the long-awaited reunion with his son.
Kara, her own eyes misty and heart aglow, watches the beautiful scene unfold. She intertwines her hand with Mon-El's, their fingers a fusion of unity and support, a silent testament to the profound impact they've had on their friend's life. As Barry finds solace in his father's embrace, the room seems to shimmer with the shared joy and gratitude of friends who have found healing, hope, and love in one another.
"What do you mean you don't know where he is?" John's voice erupts in anger, his frustration palpable as he confronts one of his agents responsible for keeping tabs on Mon-El during his undercover mission. The agent's failure to maintain contact with Mon-El, coupled with the discovery of his shattered phone on the sidewalk near his temporary residence, sends a shiver of dread down John's spine. They've been compromised.
With a groan, John abruptly turns away from the agent, his mind racing with urgency. He retrieves his phone and rapidly dials Luke's number, simultaneously instructing other agents to initiate a thorough search for Mon-El. They need to pinpoint the last confirmed sighting of him and conduct a meticulous sweep of his residence, securing a warrant to investigate L-Corp if necessary. Every person Mon-El has interacted with must be interviewed, and a thorough sweep for hidden surveillance devices in the house is paramount.
Time is no longer a luxury they can afford. Both Mon-El and Kara are likely in peril if their adversaries, whether it's Roulette or the Luthors, have caught wind of their plans. John's thoughts drift to his recent conversation with Alex, and he can't help but entertain a troubling suspicion. Could she have reneged on her word and played a part in this? Alex's stubbornness and her inexplicable disdain for Mon-El make John wary. It wouldn't be the first time someone close had turned against them.
Resolute, John tracks Alex's location, only to find her phone turned off. However, he quickly retrieves her last known whereabouts: CatCo. The pieces of this ominous puzzle are falling into place, and John knows they need to act swiftly to untangle the web of danger closing in on Kara and Mon-El.
Kara awakens, her senses shrouded in darkness, the inky void of her prison offering no clues about the passage of time. Disoriented, she rises from the cold, unforgiving floor and starts banging on the unyielding door once more. Her frantic pounding echoes through the silence, but she receives no response. Undeterred, she continues, the rhythmic thuds of her fists meeting the door a desperate symphony of her yearning for freedom.
Abruptly, the room resounds with a violent clang as if a baton has collided with the door. Kara winces and instinctively covers her ears when they yell at her to shut up, only to be met with another barrage of deafening blows against the door. Her heart races, the palpable tension in the air suffocating her.
Suddenly, a cacophony of footsteps approaches from the left. Struggling to catch even a glimpse through the small window, Kara's efforts prove futile. She can discern little more than the presence of a group of mask-clad men congregating before a neighboring cell.
Rustling and commotion within the cell are followed by a sharp, heart-wrenching gunshot, and a pained cry tears through the darkness, making Kara jump in shock. Her breath catches in her throat as she speculates on the fate of the person inside. Why had they resorted to lethal force with this captive, but merely sedated her when she had fought back?
Moments later, she hears the ominous sound of someone being dragged across the floor. Kara strains her senses to the limit, her pulse quickening as she senses the approaching presence. With her heart pounding in her chest, she barely makes out the figure being flung against the adjacent cell—her cell. Her breath hitches, and a gasp escapes her lips, "M-Mon-El?" Instantly, she knows, her heart recognizing him even in the darkest of moments.
With renewed desperation, she rushes toward the door, pressing her hands against the cold steel, yearning to connect with him through the unyielding barrier.
"Mon-El!" she cries out, her voice filled with anguish and relief at the same time. He's alive! The men begin to drag him away once more, but Kara's heart pounds, drowning out the attempts of the guard to silence her with his baton. Her voice rises, straining with every ounce of strength she can muster, "Mon-El!" She pounds on the door louder and louder, defying the blows raining down upon her from the enraged guard. As her cries reverberate through the chamber, her world goes dark once more as the guard's baton strikes her face, sending her into unconsciousness.
Barry, Winn, Kara, and Mon-El are perched on stools at Noonan's, surrounded by the familiar sights and sounds of National City. Despite their cheerful reunion, there's an undercurrent of uncertainty and reflection in their conversation. They can't help but think about their career prospects, a topic that lingers in the background like a shadow.
Winn, the anchor of their group, is the only one with a stable job at CatCo. He wears a mix of contentment and concern on his face, knowing that his friends are still searching for their place in the professional world.
Barry, on the other hand, contemplates his future with a hint of eagerness but also trepidation. "I might join NCPD's forensics," he announces, his voice laced with both excitement and the weight of a significant life decision. He and Iris had recently moved to National City, drawn by the prospect of being closer to his father.
Kara, busy behind the counter brewing coffee for a waiting customer, suddenly looks up in astonishment at Barry's revelation. "Bear, what about Star Labs? That was your dream!" Her voice carries a mix of genuine surprise. There's a hint of worry in her eyes as she considers the implications of his choice.
Barry, torn between his dreams and newfound calling, hesitates before speaking. His gaze reflects determination but also a hint of inner conflict. "It was," he begins, then lets out a sigh, "but after getting my dad back... I want to stop other people from having their lives ruined for things they didn't do." His words resonate with a newfound resolve, but there's also a touch of vulnerability in his tone, as if he's still processing the profound shift in his career aspirations.
Kara adeptly serves her friends their drinks and leans in slightly against the bar to share her own career aspirations with a mix of determination and vulnerability.
"I think," she begins, her voice steady but tinged with a hint of hesitation, "I want to, uh, get into journalism." Her words carry a sense of newfound purpose, but there's still a touch of uncertainty lingering in her tone, as if she's exploring this path with both anticipation and apprehension.
Mon-El, seated right in front of her, can't resist a smug grin. His demeanor radiates a sense of vindication, a silent celebration of seeing Kara finally embrace a career path that aligns with her true passion. On the other hand, Kara's reaction is a playful eye roll as she tries to deflect his nonverbal teasing with a simple, "Shut up." Mon-El raises his hands in mock surrender and playfully quips, "I didn't say anything."
Barry, embodying the role of a supportive friend, immediately offers assistance. "Well, Kara, maybe I can ask Iris to see if they're looking for someone at her job." His words are filled with warmth, reflecting his genuine desire to help Kara on her new journey.
Kara genuinely appreciates Barry's offer, her gratitude shining through in the form of a nod. Then, Winn, taken aback by the lingering enthusiasm he feels for Kara's well-being despite moving on romantically, stammers slightly as he extends his assistance. "There might be a position at CatCo... I might be able to get you an application," he says, his voice tinged with a mix of shyness and a deep desire to support Kara.
After serving another customer, Kara joins her friends at a table during her lunch break, and they relish shawarma together. Mon-El, seizing the moment, decides to address a pressing concern. "Rent has gotten expensive," he mentions, and the collective agreement from the group reflects their shared worry.
Mon-El clears his throat, a hint of apprehension in his voice as he gently picks on the stubble on his chin. "So, uh," he begins, a nervousness evident in his words, "I'm thinking of getting a second job at the bar..." He pauses, acutely aware of the worry that's starting to cloud Kara's expression.
He sighs, his expression a mix of determination and vulnerability as he reaches out to reassure her. "I've been sober for nearly 3 and a half years now. I've got a sponsor, and I still attend AA meetings."
Despite his reassurance, Kara's mind continues to swirl with worry, her unease casting a shadow over her thoughts. Mon-El, acutely aware of her feelings, adds earnestly, "I promise you that if I feel any temptation..." He underscores his commitment by locking eyes with her and gently resting his hand on hers, the weight of his promise palpable. "I'll quit immediately."
Reluctantly, he withdraws his hand, and Kara can't help but feel a chill settle over her own. "Plus, since I room with Winn, he'll be able to report any strange behavior," Mon-El adds with a small smile, seeking to alleviate Kara's concerns.
Kara looks at Winn, who nods resolutely, offering a silent but steadfast promise of support. Despite her relief, Kara's worry lingers like a subtle undercurrent throughout their meal. She can't help but watch Mon-El closely, her concern for his well-being ever-present. The atmosphere around their table is charged with a blend of determination, loyalty, and unspoken apprehension about their intertwined futures.
If John was impressed by the fact that a CatCo tech and an NCPD forensic scientist managed to hack the FBI hours before his own agents noticed, he certainly didn't show it. Instead, Winn and Barry find themselves immediately in the crosshairs of his seething anger. The sheer intensity of his wrath is enough to make both of them quiver with fright.
As John launches into a furious tirade, his voice reverberates through the room, drowning out any attempts at explanation from Alex. It's clear that, at this moment, the prospect of her keeping her job seems slim to none.
In his rage, John doesn't hold back. He demands multiple months of suspension without pay and threatens Winn and Barry with the prospect of lengthy federal sentences. His concern for both Mon-El and Kara, whose safety is now in question thanks to their actions, adds fuel to the fire.
But Alex, having known John for a long time, understands that his fury is a temporary storm. She knows that once Mon-El and Kara are found, John will eventually calm down. In fact, she anticipates that he might even extend FBI job offers to Winn and Barry, and she'll likely secure herself some paid leave. John's anger is a fierce tempest, but it's bound to give way to a more measured response once their friends are found safe and sound.
Mon-El hangs limply from his restraints, the pain from his wounded leg and the torment coursing through his body. But as the initial shock of the situation wanes, one name echoes relentlessly in his mind: Kara.
His heart races with worry, questions flooding his thoughts like a relentless tide. Why is she here? Is she here because of him? How long has she been here? Is she hurt? What have they done to her? Mon-El can't halt the barrage of questions, even as the men surrounding him continue their cruel attempts at interrogation.
He disregards the searing pain inflicted by his tormentors. His thoughts remain consumed by Kara. He needs to ensure her safety. Their inability to extract information infuriates the men further, but Mon-El's focus remains unwavering. He must find a way to free Kara from this nightmare.
The men, sensing his distraction, change tactics. One of them issues an order, "He's not going to talk. Get the girl."
"What girl?" Mon-El can't help but ask, his voice filled with fear for Kara's well-being. When they refuse to answer, dread overwhelms him, and he can no longer feign ignorance. "No! Please, no! I'll talk! I'll talk!" His pleas are desperate, his voice quivering with terror as he watches one of the men walk away, headed toward wherever they are keeping Kara.
Mon-El thrashes against his restraints, his wrists screaming in protest, heedless of the pain. "I'll talk, please!" Tears fill his eyes as he cries out in despair, knowing they will torture Kara until he reveals everything.
"Leave her alone!" he keeps repeating, but the men are already on their way to retrieve Kara. Mon-El falls silent, a heavy lump lodged in his throat. He has made a terrible mistake, and now he fears that the consequences will fall upon the person he cares for most in the world.
